


Spell It Out

by Kylie Lee (kylielee1000)



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Episode Tag, First Time, Jonasfic, Language, M/M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-02
Updated: 2008-10-02
Packaged: 2017-10-02 01:32:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kylielee1000/pseuds/Kylie%20Lee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Culture clash.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spell It Out

**Author's Note:**

> AN: The fingers are, as usual, for **skater_g8r**.
> 
> Originally posted July 28, 2004.

"Got it?"

I juggled the large brown paper bag, the cardboard container with drinks, and the car door. "Yeah," I said, shoving the car door closed with my hip. I stepped onto the path up to Daniel's house. It was too dark for me to get a good look at the place. I heard a thud as he locked the car doors with his key.

"Here—I'll get the front door—"

I followed Daniel up the path. He set down his bulging briefcase and fumbled with the door. After a second of confusion, he stepped back so I could go inside first.

"Sorry, here, let me help you," he said, reaching. "I'll take the drinks."

"Oh, great, thanks." I relinquished the beverages. "I can't believe they wouldn't let us stay." I had been in the mood to hang out at the diner—it had been a while since I'd eaten at Sophie's Place, and I hadn't been on Earth for at least six months. I felt nostalgic. I flipped the light switch right next to the door. The hallway lit up, and I squinted in the sudden light.

Daniel said, "I'm just glad they sold us food. They'd turned off the grill and everything." He shoved his briefcase against the wall with his foot.

"Laura remembered me," I said fondly. She had always been my favorite server. She used to bring me chocolate shakes without my asking, and sometimes, she gave them to me on the house. When she'd seen us walk in about a minute after closing, she'd hugged me. She served us, but we had to get takeout. "She asked me where I'd been." I hadn't been able to answer that one: "I'm really from another planet" doesn't go over well, because they tend to think you're insane.

"I'm sure they hated to lose such a good customer." Daniel pointed. "Kitchen's this way. Let me—I'll just put these down and then I'll get your overnight bag out of the trunk."

"Nice place," I offered. Pale walls, wooden floors, lots of space and light—I really did like it.

"Thanks," Daniel said. "It needs some work, but I never seem to have time. Plus—I'm not very handy." He flipped the light on in the kitchen and set the beverages down. "Okay, back in a sec. Make yourself at home."

I stuck the food on the kitchen counter and took a quick peek through the doorway into the rest of Daniel's house. Books were everywhere, organized by subject and size, and there were also lots of knickknacks from his travels. I wandered into the living room and looked at some masks. I heard Daniel come back in and move around, and a minute later, he poked his head in. "I put the bag in your—the guest bedroom. Should we eat? Before it gets cold?" Daniel seemed nervous, and it was making me nervous.

"Sounds good."

The dining room table was stacked with yet more books and a closed laptop computer. It looked like Daniel was studying up on the history of Ba'al. While Daniel clanked in the kitchen, I cleared off half the table by stacking the books off to the side and putting the laptop on top, freeing up enough space for us to eat. I was hungry—and glad that Daniel had agreed to stop at Sophie's when we'd driven past. I'd made kind of an excited yelp, and Daniel swung into the lot, just like that, even though we'd already eaten dinner, right before we went to see a shoot-'em-up movie that had left me mostly puzzled. We'd talked about its plot holes all the way back. It was fun to talk with Daniel about things unrelated to work.

"You're researching Ba'al?" I called into the kitchen.

"Um, yeah," Daniel called back. "Coincidence, I guess." We'd just learned that Ba'al had had a spy on Kelowna for months.

"Have you found out anything new?"

"Not really." I heard a crash. "Whoops." I smiled. Daniel had been klutzy all evening. Daniel continued, "Um, Ba'al, Hebrew for 'lord,' a term used for Canaanite or Phoenician local deities—he could be any one of hundreds."

Only one chair was at the table, so I pulled up another one. "So no new intel."

"No, not so much."

I peeked in the bag. "Ketchup?" I asked. "Do you have ketchup? Laura didn't give us any little packet thingies of ketchup."

"I thought you dipped your fries in your shake."

"How did you hear that?" I asked. It was true: I loved traditional American food, and I dipped fries in whatever I felt like, including chocolate shakes. I liked sweet and salty together. My favorite treat on Earth had been vanilla or chocolate ice cream with Saltines crushed into it.

"Sam told me." He came through the door a second later with a big red bottle of ketchup and some plates. He had tucked an entire roll of paper towels under one arm. "She doesn't get how you can eat what you eat and not get sick or gain weight."

"Clean living," I said. I placed a burger on each plate. They were wrapped in white paper, like at fast-food places. They were still mostly hot.

"No, really," Daniel said.

I smiled at him as I shook out the fries. "What, you don't believe me?"

"Nope." Daniel sat down across from me and squirted ketchup on his plate. He'd started doing his hair differently. He still combed it kind of forward, but it stuck up in front. It looked like he'd just woken up. It made him look mischievous.

"Metabolism," I said. "I run hot."

Daniel gave me a look, and I realized what I'd said was a double entendre, but I thought I'd better not dig myself in any deeper. "Ketchup?" he offered blandly, extending the bottle.

"Thanks."

"If you put any in your shake—"

"Don't worry. I learned the hard way that that grosses people out." I sat down. "Thanks for doing this," I said, gesturing at the food. "All of it, actually."

"Hiding out?"

"Oh, yeah," I said fervently. Daniel had offered to take me out of the SGC for the night. My permanent quarters had been dismantled when I left, of course, and I hadn't been in the mood to stay on base in a VIP suite. I had a debriefing tomorrow, and I was not looking forward to describing how stupid I was in excruciating detail—plus there was the whole issue of Ba'al; when he didn't hear from his spy on Langara, he would probably follow up. I could have stayed in Kelowna and gated over in the morning, but I didn't want anybody at home to be able to reach me.

"Well, I figured you needed the distraction."

"Yeah, I really did. Even if that movie made no sense."

Daniel waved a hand. "It's just you. Lack of cultural context."

"I haven't been gone that long," I protested. "It was the movie. It was badly written."

"Nah. You just need to get out more."

"I get out plenty."

"But on another planet."

I had to give him that one. "True."

Daniel grinned at me, and I grinned back. Daniel said, "I probably need to get out more. I spend too much time at the SGC."

I ate a french fry. "Tell me about it. I spent practically the last six months at work, on that DUEV. Kianna and I—" I broke off. Kianna Cyr was the woman I'd just started getting close to, only to discover that she was a goa'uld who'd been using me the whole time. I had also discovered that I hadn't been nearly as brilliant as I thought I had when I'd built the DUEV, or deep underground excavation vehicle, which had originally been designed to mine deep deposits of naquadria. Kianna had tweaked results and created some of her own systems—goa'uld systems—to enable the completion of the project. Major Carter had figured it all out, and I'd been an oblivious idiot. I had nearly given Kianna all the tools to take over my planet, not to mention the rich vein of naquadria that we'd inadvertently created when we'd set off a bomb a few months before.

"Yeah, you never wrote me about that—about her."

"Nothing to write," I shrugged.

"But you were—close."

I carefully pulled a pickle out of my burger so I didn't have to look at him. On Kelowna, we took things slowly. We established interest, and then we spent time together, and then we would work up to other things. On Earth, I'd been shocked at how fast things between people would progress. Kianna and I had been coworkers for literally months, and we'd only just started to touch. "Not that close," I said finally, because for some reason, I wanted Daniel to know that I hadn't slept with her. "But I thought—I don't know what I thought. I really liked her."

I liked smart, and she'd been more than smart. She'd been brilliant, with a flexible, intuitive mind based on a solid, practical understanding of mechanics and physics. But of course, it had been the education beyond her years that had attracted me, her centuries' worth of goa'uld genetic memory, her decades' worth of experiences in her hosts. In retrospect, now I could see how she had been able to accept and run with my ideas—ideas that I'd gotten from my experiences offworld, and that other researchers scoffed at. Kianna had immediately seen their worth and could make them a reality. Now I knew how and why.

Daniel took a thoughtful bite of his burger. "Kianna is still alive," he pointed out. "The goa'uld symbiote died. She sacrificed herself. I honestly think she was in love with you."

"Great," I said ironically. I didn't think it was a compliment. I noticed Daniel called the symbiote "she." Really, they didn't have gender per se. I'd been thinking of it as "it." Now I wondered if I was being unfair, deliberately turning the goa'uld into an "it" so it was easier to hate.

"I'm just wondering if a goa'uld and a human could ever…um…fall in love. Meet as equals."

"You're kidding, right?" I asked.

"No," Daniel said.

I eyed him. He really wasn't kidding. "If it's happened, I've never heard about it. Maybe with a Tok'ra, but definitely not with a goa'uld, not as equals. Not to mention, Kianna lied to me. It's not like she ever admitted she was goa'uld until she was found out. I thought she was human." I'd never had any idea that she was a goa'uld. I just thought she was brilliant—incredibly, impossibly brilliant. She had utterly fooled me. She had used me to gain access to key systems and classified information. To be fair, she had said that she really cared for me—that it hadn't all been an act. I didn't know whether to believe her. Daniel clearly did. It didn't make up for her using me, though.

"Okay, okay, never mind," Daniel said. "I was just wondering, I guess. And it seems—" He trailed off and poked at his fries.

"What?" I said.

"You're usually so upbeat and enthusiastic," Daniel said. "I really like that about you. So I hate it when—when something makes you, um, not be like that."

"Oh," I said, surprised.

"Have you talked to her since the symbiote died? To Kianna? The host?"

"Just a little bit," I said. I'd escorted her through the Stargate and then come back for my debriefing after I'd run some damage-control errands in Kelowna. "She's—well, she's not the same." She didn't think the same way. She didn't even hold her body or move the same way. I had found it profoundly disquieting. She had called her family once we got home, and her sister came and got her. I knew, as I watched her sister lead her away, that I should be sympathetic, that I should say something, that I should offer my help, but I couldn't. We were definitely going to have to talk, but I wanted to put it off for a day or two. We both needed a little distance.

"She'll need help to get through this," Daniel said, echoing my thoughts. "If not years of psychotherapy. If you have that on Kelow—sorry, Langara. Psychotherapy, I mean."

I didn't want to hear this. When I looked at Kianna, all the attraction and interest I thought I'd felt was gone. I just felt betrayed. I didn't see Kianna, and when it came down to it, I didn't really know her. She'd been utterly subsumed by the symbiote. We could get to know each other all over again, except every time I saw her, I felt a little ill, a combination of the goa'uld symbiote's betrayal, my stupidity, and Langara's close call. "Could we talk about something else, please?" I asked. "I'll get to say all this tomorrow, to General Hammond and Major Carter."

"Does that mean you're not going to—to—" Daniel said. "With Kianna."

I shook my head as I sipped my chocolate shake through a thick straw. I loved straws, but I was too distracted to enjoy it. I did not want to talk to Daniel about my plans to pursue, or not pursue, Kianna. "Change the subject. Let's talk about your hair."

Daniel said, "What?"

I nodded at him. "Your hair," I said. "You've gotten it cut differently, so it kind of sticks up. Is that the style now?"

"I don't know." Daniel ruffled it in back, by the nape of his neck. "I probably just slept on it wrong."

I laughed. "Very funny."

"But yours—yours is all different too," Daniel said. "No more hair gel?"

"Nope," I said. "I grew it out." I didn't mention that it had been because Kianna had suggested it, and I had kind of liked the fact it didn't look all Earth-military when it was longer.

"Well, I like it short better, but this makes you look—cute."

"Cute?"

Daniel twirled a finger in front of his face, indicating a circle. "Round," he said.

I laughed again. I hadn't realized Daniel could be so silly. It was nice of him to try to cheer me up. "I'm cute and round?"

"Absolutely."

"Well, that's just what I was going for," I said. "So with your hair, you must be going for sleepy and befuddled."

"Exactly. If I don't track, nobody is surprised, because obviously, I just woke up."

"Does it work?" I asked, interested.

"I don't think I've ever quite tracked," Daniel confessed. "So, yes."

"You track fine," I said. "Your mind just jumps around, makes connections. It's what makes you valuable. And—speaking of your mind, how's your memory?"

"Good," Daniel said, as if I'd asked him how his day had been. "Really…good."

He obviously didn't want to talk about it, so I took the lid off my shake and started dipping my fries. I'd eaten most of my food, but Daniel had just picked at his. "Don't look if it's going to bother you," I told him when I saw the look on his face. "It's really good. It's a hot-cold temperature thing and a sweet-salty taste thing."

Daniel pointed at my shake. "Can I try it?"

I pushed the shake closer to him. "Be my guest."

Daniel dipped a fry into the shake and ate it thoughtfully. I watched his face curiously. A drop of chocolate had dripped off the fry and settled into the corner of his mouth. "Not good, but—not terrible." He reached for another fry.

"You have a—a thing," I said, gesturing. "Some shake stuff."

"Oh, thanks." Daniel wiped the wrong side.

"Here." I folded my paper towel, stood up, and leaned over the table. As I dabbed, Daniel looked me right in the eye. I gave him a friendly smile, and to my surprise, Daniel blushed. I watched red flood his face and neck. "What?" I asked, pulling back a little. Maybe I'd done something inappropriate just now. Because I looked, acted, and spoke so much like people from Earth, they tended to forget that I was from another planet and didn't always say or do the right thing.

"No, it's, it's, it's—" Daniel stuttered.

His reaction completely puzzled me. I didn't think anything I'd done would have embarrassed him. "Did I do something wrong? I'm sorry."

Daniel took off his glasses and tossed them onto the table. He rubbed his face. It was still red. "No, don't apologize, it's—it's—"

I gave him a look as he trailed off again. "It's what?" I said.

"You have no idea, do you." Daniel made it a statement, not a question.

I shook my head. "No idea about what?"

"I invited you out. Dinner. Well, two dinners. A movie. And then you're going to spend the night here."

"Uh-huh," I said. I was following him so far.

Daniel cleared his throat. "I, um, had an ulterior motive," he admitted.

I tried to think of what it could be. I couldn't imagine that Daniel would be anything but direct with me. We'd only been colleagues for a short time before I left Earth, but he'd kept in touch, he'd been generous with his time and expertise, and I thought we'd gotten along well.

"I mean, I knew about the—the girl—woman!—the—um—"

"Kianna," I supplied.

"Right, yes, Kianna. But I guess I didn't realize you were in love with her."

I frowned. Where was this conversation going? "I'm not," I said. We hadn't even really been a couple, just kind of mutually attracted. I'd been hopeful. But it didn't matter now.

"You're not?"

"Daniel, what are you trying to say?"

Daniel came around the table, so we were standing face to face. "I wanted to—to tell you something."

I nodded. "Okay," I said. "What?"

"You, um, you didn't pick up on any of my cues today, and I kind of thought you had. I should be apologizing to you."

"Oh," I said, realizing: Daniel had been sending me messages, and I had been missing them altogether. "I tend to be really literal with some Earth stuff. Lack of cultural context. You know. You can ask Major Carter about it. She can definitely fill you in. I'm sorry I made you uncomfortable. You'd better just come out and say it. What were you trying to tell me?"

"Well—actually—this," Daniel said. He hesitated for just a second, then took my hands, leaned down, and kissed me gently, just once, on the lips. Then he looked at me expectantly.

I froze in shock, and then my heart started pounding. When Daniel had told me had an ulterior motive, I had never suspected it might be this. My first thought was that I had misunderstood. Had Daniel Jackson just kissed me? Apparently he had. My mind then leaped to the obvious conclusion: Daniel liked me. And I'd had no idea, no idea at all. I'd only recently come to grips with calling him "Daniel" instead of "Dr. Jackson." I looked up at him, at his slightly parted lips and blue eyes. They looked even bluer because he wasn't wearing his glasses. I had the odd impression that he couldn't quite focus on me, even though I knew he could see pretty well without them, especially up close, but I was struck with the insane idea that he couldn't see at all, and he thought I was someone else. But that made no sense either.

Before I could frame an appropriate reply, such as, "What?" or possibly, "Why?", or even "Me?", Daniel said, "On Earth, the dinner-movie thing is a date cliche."

"Oh." I literally could not think of anything to say. I stared at Daniel, and suddenly, I saw him, and how he'd been treating me, in a whole new light. My mind raced through all our interactions up through this moment, and suddenly, it all made sense—the diffident invitation, the sounding out about Kianna, the weird conversation during our first dinner, all of it. And even before that: letters and pictures sent through the Gate, questions about goa'uld translations, follow-ups to some of the work I'd done while he'd been gone, all of it the kind of notes a friendly colleague with mutual friends sends to keep in touch. I could see now, in retrospect, how some of the things I'd written and said could be taken as reciprocation of romantic interest, or at least encouragement. And I'd never mentioned Kianna to him in my notes. She hadn't seemed relevant, and suddenly I realized how telling that was—how a coworker I spent hours every day with would never make it into a letter. "I never—your notes—I thought—"

Daniel squeezed my hands gently and dropped them. "I'm sorry—with Kianna and what you've just gone through. I should have been more direct, I guess. I just really like you. And I wanted to know whether you could like me back."

"It's—I'm—" I restrained myself, almost physically, from saying, "I'm flattered," because even though I was—this was, after all, Daniel Jackson, and maybe, thanks to living in his shadow for a year, I had a hero-worship thing going—it was never the right thing to say. I settled for, "Um, wow."

Daniel's face was turning red again. "It's okay. I mean, you don't have to reciprocate or anything. I just thought—I just thought I'd better say something."

"I'm glad you did," I said. "I don't—I'm not sure—" I felt numb and stunned. My mind wasn't working right. Actually, my mind wasn't working at all.

Daniel backed up a step. "You know? It's bad timing. I'm sorry. I'll just—I'll just clean up, and we can go to bed."

"Right," I said, and then I felt my face get hot, because what Daniel had just said was a double entendre, and just for a second, I imagined what it would be like, being in bed with Daniel. It was my day for being clueless and stupid—first with Kianna, and now with Daniel. I sought refuge in mundanities. "Um, are you going to finish your burger?"

"No, I'm not hungry," Daniel said. "It was really good, but I think the first dinner was enough for me. Go ahead."

I took the half-eaten burger and adjusted the bun. "Thanks. Do you need help?" We were busy not looking at each other.

"Maybe bring in the ketchup and paper towels?"

We settled into pretending that nothing had just happened as we cleaned up and talked about people we knew at the SGC, and it should have been a relief, but the knot in my stomach wasn't going away. Not even the rest of Daniel's fries helped. I kept thinking about the way Daniel took my hands and just leaned in, and then my mind would short-circuit and I would flash forward to my "wow" comment, somehow eliding the actual kiss and his declaration.

I really, really liked Daniel, and I always had, but I had never imagined him as someone to date, someone to kiss, someone to make love with, and I realized that I could do all those things with Daniel, if I wanted to. All I had to do was tell him I was interested back. But mixed in with that was the thought that this was Daniel Jackson, _Daniel Jackson_, the person whose very absence during my year at the SGC had made him most conspicuous. He'd been sorely missed, and I'd been seen as an interloper by almost everybody, even people who had never spoken to him. Things hadn't been easy for me as a result, but, probably because of the way everyone talked about him, I had somehow internalized the idea of a mythic Daniel Jackson. The thought that he could be interested in me was, yes, flattering, but also terrifying. But the Daniel Jackson who'd blushed, kissed me, and thought he had done it all wrong didn't seem mythic at all.

"What time is your debriefing?" Daniel asked as I rinsed plates in the kitchen.

"Ten," I said.

"We'll have enough time to get breakfast, then," Daniel said. "Do you have a place you like?"

"Don't laugh," I said "I wouldn't mind the base commissary—they always have Jell-O."

Daniel smiled. "No problem. We can go a little early." He washed his hands under the tap and wiped them on a dish towel. "I'll show you your room, and you can get settled. If don't know if you want to read, or go to bed, or what—I know it's getting late."

I didn't think I could sleep, but I wanted to be alone for a while, and I figured Daniel did too. "I should probably get some rest before the big meeting," I agreed.

"All right. Come on."

I followed Daniel down the hall as he said something about his eventual plans to repaint the walls. "Here you go," he said, stepping into a room and turning on the light. He'd set my bag on the twin bed. I was not surprised to see that the bedroom was lined with double-stacked bookcases. "Oh," he said, seeing me look. He pointed as he spoke, indicating what was where. "Egypt. Babylon. Persia. Moorish Spain. And I'm—I'm down the hall, there, if you need anything. The bathroom is at the end of the hall, and it's all yours."

"Great," I said. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," Daniel said. But instead of going, he stood and looked at me. Then he reached out and touched my face. The look on his face floored me. I'd managed to relax during our "let's pretend" conversation, but now, Daniel looked at me like he wanted to devour me, and if I'd had any doubts about what he wanted from me, they were gone now. I thought he was going to kiss me again, and it wasn't going to be the brief, single kiss this time, but something much different. But he just said, "Good night, Jonas." His hand caressed me as pulled away. He turned and left, shutting the door quietly.

I sank onto the bed. My stomach had reclenched. To see that kind of need on his face—to think that someone like Daniel Jackson, the mythic Daniel Jackson, could want me—to contrast that gentle touch—

My thoughts sputtered. I was absurdly disappointed that he hadn't kissed me again. I thought back to my first kiss with Kianna. She'd initiated it, of course, and I'd been a little impressed by her forwardness, because I was her boss on the project we were working on. It had been nice, and Kianna was an intelligent, beautiful woman, but I had never seen a look on her face like I'd just seen on Daniel's. And when thinking about her, or kissing her, I had never felt like I did now, nervous and hot and cold and terrified all at once.

"Moorish Spain," I said out loud. I flung myself backward on the bed and tried to think about Moorish Spain. Granada. I'd seen pictures. Fountains. Goldfish. Beautiful architecture. Maybe I could take a vacation and visit it. I could learn Spanish. But Daniel spoke Spanish, and probably Portuguese. He could come along and translate for me until I could learn it. "Moorish Spain," I repeated, hauling myself up. I put on my pajamas and chose a volume in English.

I read for maybe an hour, but nothing took. Usually I had an eidetic memory, but I realized nothing was going in. My eyes would run over the page, and I'd turn the page and forget what I had just read. I couldn't even visualize the page, or the running head, or the typeface. Now that I was alone, instead of focusing on the moment where Daniel took my hands and skipping ahead to me saying "wow," I found myself replaying the kiss, tentative and brief as it had been. I heard Daniel moving around, and when the noises stopped, I got ready for bed myself. When I crept back to my bedroom from the bathroom, I saw the light under Daniel's door go out. He'd had gone to bed. The thought got my mind started on other things—imagining Daniel in bed, warm and rumpled and sleepy. If I left for home without finding out what Daniel looked like in bed, I would regret it for the rest of my life. I'd thought Kianna was beautiful and smart, but when it came to looks and smarts, Daniel was the real deal. I'd never even considered him before, because he was simply out of reach, but suddenly, he wasn't.

I wanted to go to his room.

It was too fast. It was way too fast.

But I knew. I could lie in Daniel's guest bedroom for five minutes, or twenty minutes, or an hour, or two hours, or all night, but I knew I was going to go to him, because I knew the answer to his question. "I wanted to know whether you could like me back," he'd said, and the answer, now that I'd gotten over the shock, was yes.

It took me an hour.

Just enough light came through the window at the end of the hall so I could see my way. I didn't hesitate at all as I turned the doorknob. I left the door ajar and stood inside to get my bearings. Daniel, asleep, a lump in the middle of a small bed, breathed slowly and regularly. I stepped inside, lifted the blanket, and slid in. There wasn't much room for two. I felt the dip of the mattress under Daniel's weight, the heat of his body. I stretched out on my side. My heart pounded as I touched him.

"Hey," Daniel said, waking up.

"It's me," I said. "Jonas."

"Jonas," Daniel repeated, turning onto his back. "Is—are you okay? Is everything—?"

"You surprised me before," I explained. I put my hand on his stomach. "When you kissed me. I wasn't ready."

"Oh," Daniel said.

"I'm ready now," I added.

"Oh," Daniel said, but in a different tone of voice. "That's—oh." He rolled so we were face to face. Now my hand was on his hip. "Okay," he added.

I scooted a little closer, so our knees bumped, and he put his arm around me. I laid my head on the pillow next to his, and I could see his eyes, bright in the darkness, watching me, just as I was watching him. I moved a little bit, and he moved a little bit, and our lips gently touched. After a long, electric moment, Daniel opened his mouth, and I turned my head, just a little, to fit my mouth on his, and we breathed together for a while, and then Daniel made a noise and put his hand on my head, tugging at my hair, and I felt his tongue, and I pushed back, and in a rush, I was hard, and we were kissing.

We twined our legs together. His groin felt hot, and his rapidly solidifying erection poked into my stomach. Daniel's fingers wove into my hair, because he wasn't going to let go, and through it all was his mouth, his breath, and I couldn't think because he was so close, so close, and I could feel how much he wanted me, and I wanted him back, in a way I had never, ever wanted the cool intellect and beauty of Kianna.

"Jonas," Daniel murmured.

"Daniel," I said into his mouth.

"No—Jonas." Daniel pulled back. "You should—you should go. I didn't—what I said before—you don't need to do this."

"I thought you invited me here to seduce me," I said.

"But I thought you knew that when you came, and you didn't," Daniel said.

I slid my hand under his T-shirt. Daniel was giving me an out, a chance to take things slow now that I'd established that the interest was mutual. But I'd decided I didn't want to take things slow. The thought of moving fast, of spending the night with Daniel, made me feel wicked, dirty, and hot. "At home, being in someone's bed like this means you want to make love. What does it mean on Earth?"

"Um, the same thing," Daniel said.

"I'm trying to tell you something here, Daniel," I said, stroking the expanse of his bare back under his T-shirt. I kissed him, and Daniel gave in, pulling me closer. "Could we—?" I asked after a minute or two.

"What?"

"Can we turn on the light?"

"The light?"

"I want to see you," I explained. "Or do you not do that on Earth?"

Daniel disengaged himself. "We do everything on Earth," he said, leaning over me to turn on the bedside lamp. "What do you do in Kelow—Langara?"

I blinked up at him. Daniel's hair was even messier than before. His eyes looked dark. I found his mouth tempting. I touched his lower lip, feeling its softness and fullness. "Whatever we want," I whispered.

"Then you'd better tell me what you want," Daniel said. He took my wrist, kissed my fingers, and then gently drew them into his mouth, one by one, sending warm waves through me. "I'd hate to have any—misunderstandings."

I pulled at his shirt, wanting to feel his chest, his arms. "I want you to take this off," I said, and he pulled back long enough to let me tug at it. My own shirt came off too. I explored the expanse of his skin, his chest, his nipples, his shoulder blades, and through it all we kissed, big, open-mouthed kisses that left me breathless. Daniel pushed me back and half-lay on me, pinning me down. "Here," I gasped. "Touch me here."

I put his hand on my ass, and I slid my hand under his waistband. He immediately stroked me, hip to butt to leg. I curled my top leg around him, inviting his touch, because I wanted his hands on me. I hitched my hips a little to let him tug my pants down as I pulled at his. I filled my hand with his ass and squeezed as Daniel's fingers traced up and down my crack. Being this direct, telling Daniel exactly what I wanted with words, made me feel dirty and excited. He didn't know that I wasn't like this all the time; he didn't know how fast this was, how wrong this was, what a rush it was. This was Daniel Jackson touching me, making little noises like he couldn't get enough, touching me and letting me touch him—wanting me to touch him, and I was amazed at how much I wanted to.

"Oh, please," I said when I felt him brush my asshole. "Inside me. Your finger inside me." My penis pressed against his hip, and I felt Daniel find the spot and push inside, and I felt it all through my body, a sharp pulse of pleasure. "Daniel," I gasped into his mouth, and I pulled him closer to me with my leg. Daniel started to stroke, his finger moving smoothly, and I rubbed my heel against him to tell him how fast to go, and he gave me what I needed. "Yes," I said into his mouth. "Deeper. Oh. Just like that. That feels—just like that." I wasn't close enough to him yet. I would only learn everything I wanted to know about him when I was close enough.

Daniel groaned when I took his penis in my hand. "Jonas, oh, god, I'm going to—don't stop—" My hand found the rhythm of his hand, and through it all, his mouth stayed on mine, and we breathed together, and I made little noises because I couldn't not tell him how much I wanted this, how much I wanted him.

I felt him thrust into my fist, and he was hot and long and hard, and he was filling me, and his hand and finger stayed with me when I thrust back, sending lances of pleasure through me, and then I was frantically pushing against him, and he rocked against me, and I couldn't stop, I didn't ever want to stop, with Daniel all around me, and Daniel shuddered on top of me, and I felt his penis squeeze, and I felt the wet, and it was too much, it was too much, and I shattered, breaking against him and then breaking again, over and over and over.

"Jonas," Daniel whispered. He set his lips against my neck and panted. I felt boneless and dazed. I was having trouble catching my breath too. I relaxed my grip on Daniel's penis as Daniel gently rotated his finger in my asshole, sending sparks through me, before withdrawing. He kneaded my ass and bit my neck softly as I pulled him atop me. His weight pushed me into the bed, and I wanted to stay there forever, underneath Daniel, sticky and sweaty and hot and utterly spent, with his taste in my mouth and his scent all over me. "I'm too heavy," he protested, but he didn't sound like he meant it.

"You're not," I said. I wanted him to keep me here.

"Mmm," Daniel said. He licked me, and I closed my eyes as he explored my collarbone with his mouth, so I could focus on the sensation, the warmth and wetness. "You're salty," he said, his breath cool puffs against my skin. "I should pour some chocolate shake on you. Salty and sweet."

I smiled at the image of Daniel licking chocolate shake off my body. "That's a great idea," I said. I wanted to be devoured.

"I thought so." Daniel lifted one of my arms and nuzzled my armpit. "I've changed my mind about your hair. I like it long. You should see yourself."

"I like the view just fine," I said, touching his chest. I trailed my fingers lower, and Daniel obligingly lifted himself up so I could feel the wetness on his stomach. "Messy," I murmured.

"Mmm. Very."

"Here. On your back." We maneuvered so Daniel was on his back, and I found a pair of pajama bottoms among the bedclothes. I dabbed at his penis and stomach, then my own, and Daniel wiped his hands. "I'm curious," I said, kneeling between his legs.

"Curious is good," Daniel said.

"What are some other words for this? Slang terms?" I touched him gently.

"For penis? Oh, there's a million of them."

"Like?"

"Like I'm not going to tell you."

"Why?"

Daniel smiled. "Most of them are impolite," he said. "Tell me some Kelownan—um, Langaran words."

"No."

"Why?"

"Same reason."

"You can tell me," Daniel coaxed. "I'm a professional. I study people's cultures. It's what I do."

"And you come visit me at home and it slips into casual conversation, and you're done for," I told him.

"Oh, so it's for my own good."

"Exactly." I leaned down and took the tip of Daniel's softening penis in my mouth, its taste sharp. "Oh, sorry. Is it okay if I do this? No cultural taboos?"

"No," Daniel said. "I mean, yes, it's okay."

I looked at him. "What?" I asked, reacting to the look on his face.

"The cultural taboo on Earth is men having sex with men," Daniel explained. "Well, western culture, anyway."

"Yeah, I got that one," I said. "I noticed it during my year on Earth."

"Is it on Kelow—Langara?"

I looked at him, eyebrows raised. Trust Daniel to be curious. But I didn't want to talk about home, or sexual customs, or any of it. "You know?" I said, putting my hands on either side of his hips. "I'm actually way more interested in what you personally think is taboo."

Daniel smiled. "Not much," he said.

"Because you're a professional?"

"Right."

"Then you'll have no problem with me doing this."

I took Daniel's penis in my mouth again, and he spread his legs. He'd just come, so I played gently, rubbing my tongue against the broad head, stroking his length, just exploring and touching and tasting. His testicles felt round and tight, the hair prickly against my cheek and nose. He stirred in my mouth, and Daniel got hard again. As he got excited, I got excited, and I drew him in deeper. He grew long and hot, and my own groin started to throb.

"Harder," Daniel said. "Oh, god, Jonas, please, harder." I tightened my mouth, his slick penis sliding to touch the back of my throat, feeling my own penis tighten in sympathy, and Daniel put one hand on my head and the other on his testicles. I felt his knuckles as he squeezed, both hands clenching. "That's it," he gasped. "I'm going to come. Oh, god." His hips lifted off the mattress, and he pulsed in my mouth. He groaned as he came, a sound that came from deep inside. When the hand tangled in my hair relaxed, I let him go, straddled one of his legs, and began to masturbate, because I wanted him to see. After sucking on him, feeling his pleasure, feeling him crush his own testicles, it only took a few strokes, and I threw my head back and panted as the waves of my second orgasm took me.

"Oh, fuck," Daniel said, and he pulled me down beside him. I was spent and dirty and absolutely happy. We kissed hard, our tongues fighting, and he'd break off long enough to gasp "god" or "Jonas" or "please."

I knew just how he felt. He was reacting to the ecstasy, to the knowledge that our bodies fit together, to the relief and release of getting what you want. I was reacting to my extreme behavior, coming to his bed, telling him what I wanted, jacking off in front of him. But he didn't know it was extreme, and further down the road, that was going to be a lot of fun. I soothed him with my mouth and hands, stroking his sweaty skin from shoulder blade to hip, until his mouth gentled and he relaxed.

"We're not going to get any sleep, are we." He made it a statement, not a question.

"I don't think so," I said.

"Okay, good." He kissed me again, slow and languorous this time. "I guess you'd better tell me what you want," he said.

"Maybe a shower," I said. "Just the two of us."

Daniel smiled and brushed my hair back. "No, I mean in general," he said. "You and me. Although a shower is a—a great idea."

"On Kelow—on Langara," I said, "this kind of activity is something that couples do."

Daniel nodded. "Same on Earth," he said, which I already knew.

"Is that what you want?" I asked.

"It kind of is," Daniel said.

"Then—frequent visits," I said. "Diplomatic visits. After all, you met with Langaran representatives to try to broker a peace."

"Langarans argue too much," Daniel said. "You're a lot easier to get along with."

"Ah, you say that now," I teased. "I should probably visit to talk about—translations. Translations?"

"I'll buy that," Daniel said. "And general cultural exchange. Don't forget cultural exchange."

"Right," I said. "It's important to keep the lines of communication open, to avoid unpleasant surprises."

"Communication. Absolutely." Daniel nodded, looking entirely serious.

"Very important…communication," I said, kissing his neck.

Daniel inclined his head to the door and raised his eyebrows. "Shower?" he queried. "I want to communicate in the shower."

I smiled. The night wasn't over. We had hours and hours before I had to be at my 10 o'clock meeting. "Let's go," I said.


End file.
